


Just Once

by GarrulousGryffindor (thegalenwrites)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegalenwrites/pseuds/GarrulousGryffindor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern AU set in the year 2012. Story started being written pre Revelations.</p><p>After years of running from the Order, Desmond is finally discovered working at a bar in New York City. He's reluctant to go back to being told what to do, and reluctant to leave one of his favourite surly customers, NYU history major Shaun Hastings.</p><p>Altair is caught in the middle of what his Grandmaster, Al Mualim, and what his recovering partner, Malik, want from him. Ezio is just busy trying to charm as many people in Manhattan as possible. Che sorpresa!</p><p>Main pairing is Desmond/Shaun, with lots of Altair/Malik and some Ezio/Leonardo to top things off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter the First

It is the year 2012, and Desmond Miles is just another bartender, working just another shift, in what looks like just another bar, on the west side of Manhattan. Well almost anyways. The bar is located in the village. It's one of those low-key, slightly sketchy, types of places which is mostly filled with the artistic and creative types that live around the area. The lighting is always dim, the bar slightly smokey (laws be damned), and full enough with patrons for someone to get lost in the crowd easily enough. It was understated and popular because it wasn't mainstream, whatever that meant. On Fridays and Saturdays there was live music which could be described as passable entertainment, typically little alternative and indie bands trying to make a name for themselves in whatever way they could in this big city. For Desmond, it was home.

Temporarily anyways. 

He felt himself settling in here, and he knew that was a bad thing. He could never settle anywhere for fear that either the assassins, or worse the Templars, found him. He feared he would have to pack up soon and move on to a different city. Maybe he'd even try Europe. That might be nice for a change. For the moment, he couldn't help but want to stay. Just a little bit longer. Maybe just a week or two. That wouldn't be so bad would it? Except yes it would, because he'd been saying that for the last couple weeks and he was already overdue. He'd been careful not to get caught so far by not staying in any one place for too long, and he was testing boundaries by staying here. Nine years he'd been playing hide-and-seek with both orders, and he was tired of the deceit. He just wanted to have a place of his own, where he could actually have a lease, and not have to pay month by month rent. A place where he could start to put together some possessions, maybe invest in a couch or something. Maybe even start to put together a life with people and all that. What a novel concept!

One night stands were one thing, but a relationship was something he just couldn't risk. Not even friendship. It wasn't safe for himself or for that person. He could have to leave at a moment's notice, not even go back to his shitty apartment, and just run if need be. How could he just leave someone behind like that? Safer if he didn't have any attachments that was how. Who knows what either order might do to someone he was involved with anyways? And why was he even thinking about this right now? The bar was packed, customers were lined up along the bar, and he was daydreaming about some shmoopy romance? Good job Des. That'll pay the rent. Since when had he turned in to such a dreamer anyways?

"Hey! Can I get a drink already?" some guy barked at him, looking annoyed, and waving a twenty in his face like Desmond should drop everything he was doing to get it for him. He looked out of place in his crisp pinstriped suit, and like he'd never been told no in his life. Desmond snatched the twenty from the guy's fingertips, and looked at him pointedly until the guy ordered a bud lite. Wow, smooth choice asshole. Especially if you liked that swill they marketed as beer. Water with beer flavouring perhaps. Regardless of his own distaste for the beverage, and maybe the man who ordered it, Desmond grabbed a bottle from the fridge, removing the bottle cap with a smooth movement and sliding it back to the guy with his change and an annoyed glance. No tip. No surprise.

Desmond sighed. He shouldn't have been such a dick to the guy, regardless of whether or not the guy was a dick first. After all, he mostly paid his bills with his tips, and if he wasn't getting tipped, well... that was an issue. Desmond looked at the seductive smiles on his fellow bartenders faces as they flirted their customers out of their hard-earned money and shook his head. Sometimes he felt like they were somewhat similar to prostitutes or strippers the way they acted. Laughing at their customers lame jokes, acting like they cared when they told them their life story, but the worst of all was having to act nice to people you just really wanted to punch in the face. As if to prove his point, a blonde Barbie-wannabe looking girl sidled up to the bar and Desmond turned on the charm as he made his way over to her, ignoring two guys along the way. Hey, he knew where his next tip was coming from, and it sure as hell wasn't coming from them. Fixing his best smile on his face, he leaned against the bar, "What can I get you hun?"

"Well, I guess I'll have whatever you suggest. You look like a man who knows what a girl wants," she replied, biting her lip in mock shyness as the mischievous look in her eyes told a different story. Desmond wanted to laugh at the obvious (and really quite poor) line. He'd heard his share of them in his bartending career, but it didn't get any less amusing for him. Or pathetic for them. He spotted a couple girls over her shoulder who were watching their interaction with too much interest not to be her friends setting her up on some sort of dare to flirt with the hot bartender.

Containing the need to beat his fists on the counter in an outburst of laughter, he instead chuckled seductively and smiled back at her, firing an equally cheesy and obvious line back at her, "How about a little sex on the beach?"

She giggled at the innuendo and Desmond wanted to roll his eyes at how simple that was, but instead went about preparing the drink as he picked up the bottle of peach schnapps and the bar rail vodka and began pouring. He finished the drink and handed it to her. A ten made its way into his hands and she smiled brightly at him, "No change."

Desmond winked at her and flashed a bright smile back her way, "Enjoy," he said simply, not trusting himself not to make some stupid comment to ruin this tip too. She went back to a group of young twenty something girls, and they all started giggling to themselves as they looked at him obviously and began gossiping. Probably just became old enough to drink. Maybe not even. Maybe they even used fake IDs to get in. The doorman was known for letting in underage girls if he thought they were pretty enough. Or if they were showing enough cleavage. In any case, Desmond almost felt dirty after the interaction. He hated leading people on and playing along, but it was all a part of the job. As he turned back to the register to put the money in, he let the mask drop as a sigh escaped him.

"Is leaving you a bloody five dollar tip on one drink the only way to get a drink in this establishment?" a lilting British accent carried over the yelling voices.

Desmond looked up, and smirked as he saw the man that went with the voice. He hadn't quite become a regular, but the man had taken to hanging out at the bar over the last couple of weeks. Chatting with the Brit had been mostly at a minimum, but Desmond had discovered this much so far: he was terribly sarcastic, had no tolerance for stupid people and, despite Desmond's better judgment, was actually kind of cute - in a geeky sort of way.

"It is on a Saturday night. You've got another thing coming if you think I'm serving you for your looks..." Desmond walked over and stopped in front of the frowning man. He poured him his usual whisky sour, shaking it up in the mixer as he looked down at the man sitting on the bar stool in front of him. Shaun didn't look like he belonged here at all. Most people were in their casual wear, which entailed an assortment of strange clothes. For Shaun, casual meant unbuttoning an extra button on his dress shirt and rolling up his sleeves, which Desmond was now noting had revealed some surprisingly muscular forearms.

"Funny because I think you just did. Unless you're saying I'm just as pretty as that girl you made that nauseating display over, in which case, I think I might be a little insulted," the Brit said, a hint of annoyance in his voice that seemed to be permanently a part of his speech.

"What's your name again anyways? You keep showing up here for some strange reason, and I figure if you're trying to implement yourself as some kind of regular, I best start learning your name." Desmond knew perfectly well what his name was, but he just liked to hear the little annoyed huff that came from the man across from him every time he asked.

As if on cue, Shaun sighed in annoyance and glowered at Desmond, "How is it that you can bloody well remember my drink order but not my name? That makes absolutely zero sense."

A shrug was the only response that Desmond had before he smirked and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning on the bar in front of Shaun. "Call it a bartender thing. Easy to match a drink to a face. Names. Not so much. You didn't answer my question." Why did he get so much enjoyment out of making this man so flustered? Maybe it was the slight flush that came over his cheeks when he really got him annoyed, or the way Shaun just seemed to keep coming back for more. Either way, Desmond had decided of all the times they had conversed, he just enjoyed the man's company overall. Maybe he was a masochist. Maybe Shaun was too.

"I didn't answer because I've told you already three bloody times, haven't I?" Shaun groused, taking a long sip from his drink. "Shaaaaun Haaastiiiings," the man said slowly like Desmond was an idiot that he was trying to teach a complex problem to. "It's really quite simple."

"Right! I remember now," Desmond said as he straightened up, flashing Shaun one of the few genuine smiles he had cracked all night as Shaun rolled his eyes at Desmond. "Now if you don't mind, you're monopolizing all my time. I have other customers. And I don't see any of those five dollar tips coming from your tight purse strings, so I'll be seeing you later..."

A chuckle escaped from Desmond as he turned his back and walked away, hearing something along the lines of 'bloody cocky american' muttered under Shaun's breath. He served a couple more customers and got a couple nice tips. Clearly his good mood was making him more likeable to the other patrons. Maybe Shaun should start coming in for his daily abuse before the rush of customers so that Desmond would get tipped better.

Lucy, one of the other bartenders he worked with, grabbed his arm and pulled him in to the back. "Can you help me with these empty bottles Des? Vieri called in sick. Again."

"Sure thing Luce," Desmond said brightly, stacking a couple boxes on top of each other and carrying them to the back with Lucy. She definitely had the better end of this deal with her one box to Desmond's three. Setting them down in the store room, Lucy sat on a beer keg and pulled out a cigarette, offering the box to Desmond. He didn't really smoke all that often, but now seemed like as good a time as any. That and it gave them an excuse to sit down for 10 minutes, claiming to be on a smoke break. Which he supposed they would be after all. He took one before handing the box back. Pulling the lighter he always kept on him for the patrons sake, he held it across to light her cigarette first before he lit his own.

"Always the gentleman," Lucy teased, exhaling the smoke in a smooth puff. She had this mischievous smile she was trying to keep off her face, but failing miserably to do so.

"That's me. The very definition," Desmond grinned back at her, inhaling deeply and looking at her skeptically before he started laughing, causing the smoke he'd just inhaled to come out in a great cloud in front of him. "Alright I can't take it anymore. What's with the smirk?"

"That librarian has a thing for you. I thought his tongue was going to loll out of his mouth when you bent down to pick up those cases just now. You should do something about it," she laughed, leaning back against the wall behind her. "He's not terrible looking for the scholarly kind."

"A) He's not a librarian, he's a history T.A. at NYU and B) what makes you so sure he's even interested? Or that I am for that matter?" Desmond had to admit that he was a little curious. He'd thought about it on a couple of occasions that Shaun had sat at his bar. He wouldn't mind showing Shaun an intimate tour of his bedroom, but the guy didn't strike him as the one night stand type and that was all Desmond could offer anyone.

Lucy laughed outright, shaking her head at a confused Desmond, "Alright well, first off, you just showed you were interested right there with that little regurgitation of personal information on the guy. And I know that he is because he only seems to come around when you're working."

Desmond shrugged a shoulder, taking another drag of his cigarette, "That doesn't mean anything. That could just be a weird coincidence or something. I usually work the same nights. Maybe those are just the nights he has off..."

"Oh really?" Lucy challenged, looking smug, "If that's the case, then why did he come in on Wednesday and asked if you were working? Vieri told him you weren't and he looked all disappointed and left. Didn't even stay for a drink after coming all the way down here. Sounds to me like someone only likes to be served by a certain tall, dark and handsome bartender. Probably wouldn't mind if you serviced him in other ways either. Might be weird if you accept money for that though."

"Hardy fucking har," Desmond quipped, rolling his eyes. He had to admit this was an interesting development. Was that why Shaun kept coming back? Just to see him? Seemed silly. Shaun didn't even seem to like him. Maybe insulting people was the British way of flirting.

"Why don't you just take him home with you already?" Lucy asked bluntly, stomping out her cigarette so they could go back to work.

Desmond followed suit and shrugged his shoulders, "He doesn't really strike me as a guy that would be comfortable with a one night stand. And I sure as hell am not ready for any kind of commitment with anyone." That wasn't entirely true, but it was better than the truth. And that was certainly something he couldn't voice out loud. "I just don't think it would be a good idea. Plus, isn't it sort of a house rule that we don't sleep with customers?"

Lucy laughed as they walked back to the main area of the bar, "Do you think anyone actually follows those rules? And don't give me that. I don't believe for a minute that you've ever followed anyone's rules if you didn't want to. You're stalling. And I'm going to find out why..."

"Drop it Lucy," Desmond grumbled, not liking where this conversation was going all of a sudden, "I just... he seems like a nice guy under all that hostility and I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Just talk to him..." she said over her shoulder as she sauntered over to a couple college boys with a predatory look. Desmond frowned as he looked over at Shaun, who had since pulled out a book and started to read in Desmond's absence. Desmond couldn't help but feel that this was going to end badly somehow.


	2. Chapter the Second

Desmond walked over to where Shaun was reading and stood in front of him for a moment, cutting up some limes absently as he observed the grad student. He had little lines of concentration crinkling his forehead and the corners of his mouth as he read over something that looked like more than a little light reading. He didn't even realize he was staring until the Brit spoke up, not even looking up from the book in front of him as he addressed Desmond.

"It's not polite to stare, you know..." he murmured against the hand that was propping him up.

Desmond started a little and barely missed his index finger with the knife, cursing softly as he put the knife safely to the side, and crossing his arms over his chest. "You've been sitting there with an empty drink in front of you for twenty minutes. Either order a new one or liberate that stool for a paying customer. Come to think of it, you haven't even paid for that one yet college boy."

Shaun frowned and looked up from the book he was reading, throwing a bar napkin in between the pages so he didn't lose his spot. "You would kick me out just for sitting with an empty glass?" he asked incredulously, eyes narrowed a little as he looked at Desmond. He must have looked serious because Shaun finally snapped out another response as he reached for his wallet. "Fine. Here's a fifty. That should pay for the first one and a few more, shouldn't it? Just keep 'em coming. Bloody yankee bastard," he muttered, going back to reading his book. Must have been pretty damn interesting. Whatever it was.

Desmond stared at the money for a moment before grabbing it and going over to put it in the till, proceeding to make another whisky sour for Shaun. He slid the drink over to the man, who was trying to look busy reading and Desmond felt himself chuckling a little. "Am I really so transparent that you've figured out that you can buy my attention? Fifty dollars is enough to have me filling that glass until closing time. Only a couple hours away, but still..."

"Wow. Fifty dollars for your _undivided_ attention?" Shaun grumbled, eyes still glued to his book. Why was he focused so hard on that damn book anyways? "Who knew the rates were so cheap? Don't sell yourself short now. You're high class material. You could probably get... dare I say it? _Sixty_ whole dollars." Sarcasm laced every word he spoke and Desmond laughed at the dry humour. He could swear that he saw the corners of Shaun's mouth turn up ever so slightly when he had laughed. That mask of his didn't hold up so well after a couple of drinks. Curiosity poked at Desmond and he wondered how much further it would slip if he could get the Englishman drunk.

"What you think I could do better? A hundred, maybe? I think I'd have to get a few more drinks into you to get that sort of money. Better drink up then, rent is due at the end of the week," he prompted, watching as Shaun smirked and held up his glass.

"Well then. Cheers mate." His words dripping with sarcasm once more as he drained his drink.

Desmond grinned a bit mischievously as he was already shaking another one up for Shaun, refilling the glass in front of him as Shaun turned his attention back to his book. Their little game continued like this for the rest of the night. Lots more teasing and drinking (on Shaun's part) until the last of the patrons were filing out of the bar, well after last call. Shaun leaned heavily on the bar, trying to look sober but failing miserably with his half-lidded eyes and slurred words. The problem with sweet or fruity drinks like a whisky sour was that you didn't realize how much you were drinking until it was too late. That and the sugar made for a bitch of a hangover. And maybe the whisky too.

Lucy brought a hand up to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing as she looked at Shaun. She shook her head at Desmond, who shrugged and smiled sweetly at her. "What?" he asked, trying to be the picture of innocence.

"Mmhmm..." Lucy murmured, waving him over to the door. "Why don't you make sure Shaun gets home alright? He's too drunk to make it back to wherever it is he lives in one piece. Especially this late at night. Looking like that." Desmond started to protest and Lucy held her hands up. "I'll clean up. Don't worry." Desmond appraised Shaun and realized she was right. He'd never seen him so drunk. The guy would be hard pressed to get home without passing out in an alley first or getting mugged or something. Desmond felt just the tiniest bit responsible. Okay, _entirely_ responsible but that wasn't the point.

"Alright well good night then..." Desmond said, as he hopped the bar so he didn't have to go all the way around. Gathering Shaun's book, he tucked it into the man's book bag around his shoulders and buckled it up so he wouldn't lose his things. It seemed important enough to him earlier. "Come on Shaun. I'm going to drive you home."

"If you get lost or he can't remember where he lives, maybe you could just take him back to your place Des..." Lucy shouted her idea across the empty bar as they made slow progress toward the door.

"Good _night_ Lucy," Desmond growled, putting an arm around Shaun's waist since he was slightly wobbly and hooking the man's arm around his shoulders to steady him. The fresh night air filled his lungs when they got outside and he smiled. And now his favourite part of the night. Time with his baby. He manoeuvred Shaun towards the parking lot and smiled as his ride came in to view. "Shaun, I'd like to introduce you to my baby. Baby, this is Shaun. He's going to be joining us tonight."

He paused and unhooked Shaun's arm from around him, holding his hands out as he inched slowly away from the teetering man. He looked... mostly stable. Stable enough that Desmond could retrieve his helmet anyways.

"I thought you said you were going to drive me home," the Brit slurred, looking around for a car in the empty parking lot with some confusion.

"I am. This is it. Right in front of you. Did you miss the introduction just now?" Desmond laughed, walking up to Shaun with the helmet. "This is my pride and joy. Suzuki Hayabusa. Second generation sport bike. It's a 2008, so she's got a couple of years and some good mileage on her but oh man, there's nothing like her. The force of almost 200 horsepower between your thighs..." Desmond ran a hand along the siding of the bike fondly, fingers grazing over the Japanese character for 'peregrine falcon' emblazoned in crimson paint along the side of it.

He looked up to see that Shaun was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. When Desmond approached him with the helmet, he held up his hands like Desmond was holding a knife or a poisonous snake and stumbled backwards. Desmond had fast reflexes though and he jumped forwards, grabbing Shaun's arm to keep him from falling on his ass. "Easy cowboy..."

"No bloody way am I getting on that motorcycle with you." Words sort of meshing together with his slurred speech.

"You don't have a choice in the matter," Desmond murmured back, grinning mischievously again. The idea of getting Shaun out of his comfort zone was definitely an appealing one. He had a feeling the T.A. spent too much time in that box. He pulled off Shaun's glasses and thumped the helmet on his head before pulling up the visor and placing the glasses back on his nose with a grin, "Perfect."

"What about you? Where's your helmet?" Shaun asked, voice coming out slightly muffled by the padding of the helmet.

"You're wearing it. I only have the one. Never had need for a spare. Don't often have a second passenger. It'll be fine. Besides, your brain is more valuable than mine anyways," he teased, grabbing Shaun's hand and pulling him over towards the bike, as Shaun followed behind him reluctantly. Desmond straddled the bike and held out a hand for Shaun to help him on behind him. "Feet go there," Desmond said, positioning Shaun's legs as he twisted around to get the man settled and comfortable, "And you can hold on there or you can hold on to me. All set?"

"I think I'm going to be sick..." Shaun murmured, stubbornly holding on to the other hand holds and not Desmond. Desmond could swear a blush was colouring the Brit's cheeks under the helmet. _A-fucking-dorable_. Finally had Desmond between his legs and now he was blushing. Under all that bravado he suspected Shaun was really insecure when it came to the romantic aspects of life.

"Where do you live anyways?" Desmond asked as he kicked the bike to get it going, looking back over his shoulder at Shaun who had jumped at the loud noise of the motorcycle starting and wrapped his arms hastily (and quite snuggly) around Desmond.

"Four story walk up across from the Washington Square Campus. Just get us there alive and I'll give you more instructions." Shaun murmured into Desmond's shoulder, words still slurring together nicely. He sounded scared out of his mind and Desmond couldn't help but chuckle as he pulled his legs up and sped off, feeling Shaun's arms tighten around him.

Desmond made his way as effortlessly as always through the city; taking a couple well known short cuts, maybe driving a little faster than usual to get a rise out of Shaun. He actually wished that maybe Shaun lived a little further away so the ride would last longer. It was kinda nice having the warmth of Shaun's chest pressed up against his back and kinda cute how tightly his arms were wrapped around him.

"Left. Next street," Shaun instructed, squeezing himself tighter to Desmond as he took the corner. "That one. With the green door."

Desmond pulled his bike into the side alley and parked it, turning off the engine and getting off. That was the beautiful thing about motorcycles, you didn't need a parking space. Shaun still looked like he might have been in shock over the whole thing so Desmond held his hand out to help him off the bike. If he hadn't Shaun probably would have fallen on his face. As it was, Shaun's foot caught the edge of the bike and he tripped in to Desmond's chest. The Brit straightened up immediately and looked suspiciously at Desmond like he'd tripped him or something.

"Maybe I better walk you up those four flights of stairs. Wouldn't want you falling and breaking your neck now would we?" Desmond said with a laugh as Shaun removed the helmet and ran a hand through his reddish brown hair. The constantly messy state of it was one of the things Desmond liked best actually. It suited the teacher's assistant, it said 'i'm too busy being smart to worry about what my hair looks like' and it looked sexy.

After a few false starts, Desmond thought it was best to just keep Shaun moving. Any time he stood still for too long he seemed to teeter over. Shaun waved a hand at his door, " 's me here," he mumbled as they reached the fourth floor, digging in to his pocket for his keys. He tried to put the key in the lock, but he seemed to be hitting everywhere but the keyhole.

Sighing patiently, Desmond leaned over and put his hand over top of Shaun's to steady it, turning both of their hands to twist the key and opening the door. He wanted to make sure Shaun was at least safe in his apartment and not sleeping in the hallway to be stabbed by a hobo or something. He hadn't realized how close he was or that his hand was still holding Shaun's until said man, very uncoordinatedly, pushed him up against his door frame and started kissing him. It was sloppy because Shaun was very drunk, but there was a hunger under those kisses that made Desmond's knees a little weak. And surprisingly, despite being a geek and despite the drunk sloppiness of it all, Shaun was a pretty good kisser.

Desmond surprised himself by responding and pushing Shaun back against the opposite side of the door frame, lips attacking Shaun's with just as much hunger. It had been a couple weeks since he'd been with anyone and he kinda liked Shaun. One of Desmond's hands slid down Shaun's side to rest against his hip as his thigh rubbed up between Shaun's legs. The responsive groan that came from Shaun was swallowed by Desmond's searching mouth.

He could think of about a million things he wanted to do to Shaun right now. And with the way they were making out and groping each other in his doorway? He could tell that Shaun could think of a few too. They finally paused for a moment to breathe and Shaun nodded towards the inside of his apartment, "We could... move this inside my flat?"

Desmond looked into the apartment and bit his lip as he turned to look at Shaun again. He wanted to. God, did he ever want to... The man was clearly very drunk though, and he wouldn't want to take advantage of him or anything. Plus, there was the whole thing of Shaun not seeming like the type who would handle 'just a hookup' very well. Sometimes having a conscience was just about the worst thing a person could have. Sighing heavily, Desmond shook his head at last, hands sliding of their own accord up and down Shaun's sides slowly. "I want to. I like you Shaun, despite all the bickering which really I like to think of as cute bantering more than anything..."

"But-" Shaun started for him, eyes lowering to the floor with the fear of rejection. And that was what hurt the most. Seeing that face right there. Clearly Shaun's emotions became far less guarded when inebriated because there was no way the Shaun he knew would ever let him see such a moment of weakness. It just about killed Desmond to continue.

"I'm sorry. It's just you've had a lot to drink. It wouldn't be right. Maybe we can talk about it some other time when you come into the bar, okay?" he asked, trying to smooth things over with the guy. When he didn't respond, Desmond leaned in and pressed his lips to Shaun's in a slow, searching kiss that probably would have led to more if he hadn't pulled himself out of it after a few moments. While Shaun was occupied by the kiss, Desmond took a fifty from the wad of cash he had in his pocket from his tips and slipped it into Shaun's pocket. He didn't feel right about it then and he didn't want Shaun's money anyways. "Look, I like you," he repeated, wanting to drive that point home, "It's just... not a good idea tonight. Alright? Get some sleep Shaun. I'll see you at the bar."

"Maybe you're right," Shaun muttered finally, giving Desmond the slightest hint at a smile. A smile from Shaun was about as rare as a rainbow and he wondered if he'd ever catch a glimpse at a real, genuine one. "Night then."

Desmond stepped out of the doorway with a smile and waited for Shaun to close the door and for the click of the lock before he made his way back downstairs. Stepping out of the building, he leaned back against the brick wall in the alley beside his bike and sighed heavily. This was so inconvenient. And such a bad idea. What happened to no attachments, Miles? Just once he wanted to be selfish and do something just for him, consequences be damned. He supposed it was his own fault for getting Shaun that drunk, but if he hadn't gotten him drunk would he have even driven him home? Doubtful. Shaun liked to keep his distance usually. The world worked in fucked up ways sometimes. Desmond got back on his bike and put his helmet on feeling really tired all of a sudden. This situation was one he was going to have to think about when his mind was clear and he didn't still have the feel of Shaun's lips on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the kudos, comments and everything on the last chapter. <3


	3. Chapter the Third

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more familiar faces for you guys ;)

As Desmond pulled away on his motorcycle, two hooded figures stepped out of the shadows on a building across the street. One wore a white hooded jacket, lined and stitched with red, and the other one a black leather coat, a dark grey hooded sweater underneath. The one in black watched the boy drive away, lips a thin line of disapproval, eyes covered in shadow from the hood pulled up. The one in white was biting his lip a little, almost nervously, as he looked across the street towards the Brit's apartment. They'd seen the whole exchange through Shaun's hallway window, a perfect view of his doorway. And their little grope session.

"Perhaps all that he needed was a bit of a break to be wild and reckless. If we talk to him, maybe he'll come back willingly. You know how stubborn Desmond can be." An Italian accent flavouring the words that came from the man beneath the white hood.

The man in the black hood seemed not to care one way or the other for those words, and was using a thick cable between the two buildings to cross over to Shaun's building already. Walking carefully and quietly, he barely made any noise. He was like a shadow in his movements. He heard a sigh from behind him and the Italian shortly followed.

"Altair, maybe he doesn't know anything. Desmond's not that stupid. He would not have discussed the order. Harming him does not seem necessary," Ezio whispered hurriedly, when he noticed that Altair was beginning to climb down the fire escape to Shaun's apartment. The dark assassin perched on the railing, looking into the window and taking in the situation. The Englishman was sprawled on his bed like he'd just fallen on to it, glasses askew and mouth slightly open as he slept heavily.

Altair continued his silence as his hidden blade flicked out and he used it to open the lock on the window. He slid it quietly open and made a hand gesture at Ezio that indicated that he was to stay there and keep watch. Ezio chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously as he watched Altair slip quietly into the apartment. He didn't agree with this. If they killed this guy it would just push Desmond farther away, and Ezio wanted the young assassin safely back among their ranks.

He'd always really liked Desmond, the guy reminding him a bit of himself. Ezio had sort of always been like his mentor at the compound and he'd taken it pretty hard when the kid had run away at the age of sixteen. He looked at him now, a strong twenty five year old man, looking after himself and successfully evading both them and the Templars for years. And evading Altair was no easy feat. The only reason they'd caught up with him this time was that Desmond had stayed here a little too long. He'd gotten sloppy. Ezio suspected the reason he had stayed so long was sleeping on that bed over there.

Altair went up to the bed and studied the man impassively for a moment while Ezio held his breath. _Do not do this, friend. Do not do this_ , he thought silently. Desmond would never forgive them for this, even if they thought it was in the best interest of the order. Much to Ezio's surprise, Altair walked away from a still sleeping Shaun. He wandered around the apartment, looking through Shaun's papers and books, making sure not to ruffle them too much out of place. His eyes landed on Shaun's book bag on the floor and he walked silently over to it, opening it and searching the contents.

The master assassin pulled out the book Shaun had been reading earlier, and frowned the more he flipped through the pages. Golden eyes flashed over once more to the unconscious Englishman, and then back to the book. He straightened up and put the book in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. One last suspicious look at the man was cast his way, before he slipped back out the window and closed it silently, motioning up to the roof.

"I thought you were going to kill him. Truly. You had that expression on your face. I have seen it before. What persuaded you to spare him?" Ezio asked curiously, as he sat on a crate that was on top of the roof.

"He was blue," Altair said simply in reply, but his expression was confused. "The sense told me he was blue, but he had this. Notes. On both orders. He is studying us. I _should_ kill him. Judging by this, he already knows too much..."

"No!" Ezio said quickly, holding his hands up. "Please don't. Talk to Desmond first. Please. Before you do anything." Begging was not something that was in Ezio's day-to-day, but he truly believed that they would lose Desmond permanently over this and that was something he would fight to avoid.

Altair frowned, as was his way, "The order dictates..."

"Cazzo! Listen to me! We will lose him permanently if you do this. _Permanently_. I know him. He will not understand, my old friend. Please. Reconsider," Ezio continued, placing his hand on Altair's shoulder and squeezing slightly. "What if it was Malik in there? Would you not want someone to talk to you first?"

Altair stood with a growl and smacked Ezio's hand away. It happened so fast that Ezio didn't even have time to react, and Ezio's reflexes were pretty damn fast. Holding on to the front of Ezio's jacket, Altair dangled him over the edge of the building, Ezio's feet were planted on the edge of the roof but slipping slowly as he was held out over the edge. Altair's words were deliberate and dangerous, "Don't. Talk. About. Him. You know _nothing_."

"Merda! Altair! Are you insane? Stop this madness!" Ezio growled back at him, eyes narrowing in anger that the master assassin would dare do such a thing to his equal in rank. Although, in retrospect, it was probably a foolish thing to say, given Malik's condition at the moment. "I apologize, alright? I should never have said anything."

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, Altair pulled him back up and hurled him on to the gravel of the rooftop. "Do not compare what I share with Malik to some drunken encounter in a dirty hallway. You will _never_ understand what we have." Altair paused. "Had," he corrected, hood obscuring the look on his face, but the lips that were still visible sported a grieved expression.

"Altair..." Ezio coughed a little, still winded from the throw, but the assassin was already gone. He shouldn't have said anything. 'Totally out of line' crossed his mind and he sighed heavily.

The master assassin had only recently gotten back from a mission in Jerusalem that had gone... badly. That was an understatement. Altair and Malik, being senior assassins (and partners), had gone on the mission with Malik's younger brother, Kadar, who was still a novice. It was only supposed to be a simple retrieval operation, but the Templars had been expecting them. Altair was overconfident. There was gunfire exchanged. And the result was Malik's arm getting mangled in a fall, while they were escaping. With his arm trapped under debris, and little time until the Templars were upon them, Altair had had to make a choice. Malik was already unconscious from the fall, and the arm was too badly crushed under the cement to even think of repair after extraction. It was leave Malik to be found (and then killed) by the Templars, or it was cut him free. The damage was too extensive, he'd reasoned with himself. Altair's hidden blade had always been steady before that moment. Kadar had bled out in Malik's arms not fifteen minutes before that fall, a bullet having nicked an artery on the way out. Altair was devastated to say the least and Ezio knew he was still worried about Malik's reaction to his arm along with grieving for Kadar himself. Whenever Malik might wake up that is.

That's it. Enough of this stalking Desmond business. Ezio was a master assassin too, and he didn't need Altair's permission to approach their target. Especially considering who that target was. He ran along the rooftops to clear his head, making his way across to Desmond's apartment building. Landing with a thump on the rooftop, he made his way down the fire escape to Desmond's window and looked in. The kid was sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Hardly very dignified, but he supposed Desmond thought it was better than buying a bed frame he was just going to have to leave behind anyways.

Inhaling a big breath, Ezio knocked on the window. Desmond sat bold upright immediately and looked around to see Ezio sitting in the window, motioning to the lock. He knew that Desmond knew Ezio could easily open that window, but that he was more asking for permission to come in. He didn't miss the dark expression that crossed Desmond's face either as he crossed and unlatched the window, sliding it up and allowing Ezio to climb in.

"Guess it was only a matter of time..." Desmond murmured, slumping back down on to the mattress and crossing his arms over his chest.

Ezio grabbed the only chair in the room and sat down, looking at Desmond seriously. "We've been on to you for the last two weeks Des. Look, amico mio, I am here about your friend Shaun Hastings."

Desmond's eyes widened and he looked at Ezio desperately, immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusion (in this case not far from the truth). "I didn't tell him anything! He doesn't know. You guys can't do this! I'll leave with you, okay? Quietly. Just leave Shaun out of this. Please. It's not his fault. He thinks I'm just a bartender." Words tumbled out of him in rapid succession and Ezio felt a little sorry for the poor bastard.

When Desmond had finally paused to take a breath, Ezio gave him a bit of a sad smile. "I have no way of knowing if he knows about you or not Des, but he knows about the order. Altair has-"

" _Altair's_ on this?" Desmond exclaimed, voice suddenly panicked as he jumped up and grabbed his helmet. "I have to get to Shaun first!"

Ezio intercepted him and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. "He already had the opportunity and your prince charming is still alive and well. Relax, my friend. Well, _relax_ might not be the best word, but do not panic either. Look, there is a... loophole," he said quietly, as if Altair was going to bust in there any second. Desmond looked at him expectantly and Ezio continued hesitantly. "Convince Al Mualim to put him in the order and they will not have to kill him. I do not see any other way."

Desmond's hand came over his eyes and he held his head like he had a headache, "It's bad enough that I was forced into this through birth, but I don't want to screw up his life too. Just because he kissed me."

Standing up Ezio crossed to Desmond and putting both of his hands on his shoulders, shook him firmly, "If you want him to live, you will do what I tell you idiota. And I suggest doing it _fast_. Before Altair changes his mind. You know what he is like."

"Fine. Just tell him to keep his distance and I'll take care of it," Desmond grumbled, putting his helmet back and deciding it could wait until morning. No point in waking up Shaun just yet if Altair wasn't after him. Well, right at this second anyways.

"How do you live in this _cesso_?" Ezio asked, toeing at a pile of clothes that was lying in the corner.

Sitting back down on the mattress, Desmond shook his head at his Italian mentor, "It isn't a 'shithole', Ezio. It's... inconspicuous," he chuckled, smoothing a hand through his short bristly hair. "Besides, it's expensive having to hide from you guys. I can't afford to stay at the fucking Hilton in every town I go to."

Smirking at the fact that Desmond hadn't lost his sense of humour, Ezio pointed out the window. "Come back to the safe house with me. The beds are more comfortable. I promise we won't tie you up or anything and drag you back to HQ in Virginia."

Desmond considered it for a moment and then nodded, "Fine. I need to talk to Altair anyways. Make sure he understands that Shaun _isn't_ a threat and that he's off-limits."

Ezio seemed pleased with this arrangement and climbed out the window, as Desmond pulled on some clothes and followed him. Desmond had been working on his free running skills because he could keep up just as well with Ezio now. Turning towards his companion, Ezio tried to put Desmond's mind at ease, "He will not act until he gets an order. He only ever does what Al Mualim tells him. Altair is a good dog."

Desmond scoffed at this, and shook his head, "You don't think Altair will mention this to Al Mualim in his report, and you don't think he'll give him permission right away? Please. I might have been away from the order for awhile, but I know how they operate. Al Mualim doesn't care if Shaun's innocent. He knows about us and that's enough to kill him in his eyes. And Altair doesn't care either."

"Go easy on him, amico mio," Ezio said softly, as they walked along another rooftop. "Kadar is recently dead. And Malik... is not faring so well. Altair feels responsible, maybe he is, and he is especially volatile right now. So just... go easy on him. He might act like he is heartless, but he is not made of steel as he would like us all to believe, and he is hurting right now, even if he will not admit it."

Skidding to a halt on the rooftop, Desmond looked as though someone had punched him in the gut. "Kadar is dead?" he asked quietly, looking away when Ezio just nodded silently. Kadar was around his age and used to train with Desmond a lot. To think that someone he'd grown up with and been friends with was dead "for the cause" without his knowledge made him really upset. He felt nauseous suddenly. Malik had gotten injured too? He'd always really appreciated and respected the assassin's stoic and mature nature, even when they were younger. Malik looked like the perfect example of what an assassin should be next to Altair's over-confident, but skillful, nature as well as Ezio's joking, but equally skilled, disposition.

"Altair must be devastated, but I doubt he's showing that outwardly. Probably acting like he doesn't care right?" The younger of the two asked as he started free running beside Ezio again. Even before he'd left, he'd known what was going on between Altair and Malik. They were kind of terrible at hiding it. Plus, you can only walk in on a couple making out so many times before you stop assuming that they simply tripped and fell on each other with their lips open and their eyes closed. And Kadar, he'd been like a little brother to Altair. The always indifferent assassin was probably acting like it was just another death in the field but he knew that, at the very least, he and Ezio knew better.

"He is completely unbearable," Ezio admitted as he slowed and motioned Desmond to follow him to the door on the roof of what looked like an abandoned factory. It was all very inconspicuous, except for the carefully hidden cameras and likely microphones and god knows what else. Desmond sighed. Welcome home.

"So the usual then," the bartender joked as they opened the door with a pass code and paused in front of a sealed elevator. Ezio moved to put his hand over the scanner and nodded for Desmond to do the same on the other side. A flash of light ran along his palm before the screen glowed green and a pleasant male computerized voice greeted them, "Welcome back Asset Auditore, Miles..." It greeted them in turn. Asset. How personal. They really were just agents and pawns in a war between secret organizations.

Desmond stepped into the elevator and they went down, much further down than any basement the factory might have had. It was precautionary to put the safe-house deep under ground unless the Templars got any bright ideas of blowing up the safe house should they find out its location. They exited the elevator and walked through a lobby area, past a pleasant looking woman who informed Ezio that Altair had come back briefly, but already left again. She looked at Desmond curiously, but before an introduction could be made they kept walking. They walked through what looked like a mix between the labs and logistics areas to a set of stairs that went down to the living quarters for the assassins of this particular safe house.

A couple people were relaxing in front of a flat screen, watching a movie and looking for the better part like completely normal human beings. Aside from the fact that they knew how to kill you about 100 different ways without even getting creative. Desmond was following Ezio wordlessly, until he saw a certain blond haired girl, sitting on the couch beside a brunette with shaggy hair and headphones around her neck. "Lucy! You're one of _them_!?" Desmond asked incredulously.

"One of _us_ Desmond," the brunette corrected him, interrupting Lucy with a bit of a sly smile as she reached over the back of the couch to shake his hand, "I'm Rebecca. Heard a lot about you. So the prodigal son has returned at last... I see they didn't have to resort to restraints." Her joking nature put a bit of a smile on his face despite the feeling of betrayal he was feeling.

"Someone had to keep an eye on you. And I have a feeling you would have recognized our master assassins pretty much right away, wouldn't you?" the blond assassin laughed, shrugging a shoulder at the still shocked look on Desmond's face. "I saw the report on Shaun. I'm sorry Desmond. I feel a little responsible pushing you two together so close to when they were going to bring you back in. I just thought you could have gotten laid one last time before your 'home coming', you know?" No secrets within a secret organization apparently. Ironic.

"Yeah well... thanks a lot. Either way his life is over. Altair kills him or he gets forced into assassin servitude. How the hell do I explain that to him?" Desmond said bitterly, slumping down on the opposite couch beside Lucy.

She put an arm around his shoulders and patted his arm, "Better down here with us than up there with them. And I mean, you would be here too. I don't think Shaun would be complaining too much about that..."

"Until I get reassigned. Or put in solitary confinement. Or something," he grumbled as Ezio leaned against the couch, beside Rebecca.

Rebecca laughed at him and shook her head, "You make it sound like a prison. It's not so bad down here. They have these special UV lights and fake windows so that we don't go stir crazy or whatever... It's _almost_ as good as real sunshine. We even go out once and awhile for fresh air!"

"Sarcasm is not a very endearing trait in a woman, Rebecca," Ezio chided.

"Never been much of a lady signore," she teased right back, causing Ezio and Lucy to chuckle a little.

"Well, this is really charming, but I'm fucking tired and this is giving me a headache." Getting up from his seat, Desmond let Ezio show him to a room that would probably become his. He heard Lucy mutter something about the fact that he had been spending too much time with Shaun and his attitude was starting to rub off on him. The talk of Shaun made him feel sick, and he decided to just sleep on the whole thing and consider their options in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are <3 ! Thanks again to everyone who left such nice comments or kudos'd the story. Cheers!
> 
> -GG


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